


Between The Stars We Glide

by CelticPhoenix



Category: Original Work
Genre: Characters Tagged as Introduced, F/M, Family, Lovecraftian, Megacorporations, Mercenaries, One Shot Collection, Original Fiction, Poetry, Science Fiction, Space Opera, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 16:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7625425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelticPhoenix/pseuds/CelticPhoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We travel, to and from,<br/>The celestial bodies among the stars,<br/>We forget, or oft ignore,<br/>Our histories bloody scars.<br/>When we ventured boldly forth,<br/>And so long became our stride,<br/>Arrogance it brought to us,<br/>As between the stars we glide."<br/>-From 'To The Stars, And Quickly: An Anthology of Poetry In the Space Age'</p>
<p>--------------</p>
<p>A collection of vignettes and one-shots from my own space opera/sci-fi setting. Maybe a few meta's about tge setting as a whole, although it's pretty standard, all told.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Worker's Tale

I was hired by Hephaestus Heavy Industries at twelve, on a CSA world were the labor laws were lax.

I was taken to a training facility, where I learnt for the next four years how to be a mechanic. General maintenance? Been there, done that. Building standard-issue devices? Year two, term three. Combat engineering? Well, I'm pretty mean with a shotgun.

I finished three years ago, and I've been shunted around a bit since then. Worked in a factory on Vulcan for a year, on a maintenance squad. For the year and a half after that I was with the 63rd Regiment, the Siegebreakers, and since then I've been reassigned almost every fortnight.

I'm on Cardon right now, writing this in a bunker before I go on shift. We've been working in pairs, there's only four of us engineers here at the moment, trying to keep the air filters running.

They're nearly dead, and they need constant attention to keep them from venting. The water pipes are rusting, the concrete walls are cracking, the entire complex is falling apart.

According to the Commander it was better a few months ago, but I arrived here as emergency reinforcements. It's hard to keep a tight ship in the middle of a warzone.

If this place takes many more shells the air filters will fail. More than half the base will have noxious gas vented into it. If that happens on my shift, the gases will kill me, so these will probably be my last words.

I just want someone to remember.


	2. One Week Too Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only one week until evacuation.
> 
> One week too many.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Semi-continuation of the last one.

Monday

The bunker shook with the the force of the heavy artillery barrage. The air filters had given out scant days before, killing the engineers on shift with half the population of the base. Only one week until evacuation.

Tuesday

More shaking. Since the beginning of the assault, more than three quarters of those assigned to the fortress had died. Six days left.

Wednesday

There was no shaking this time, but it would have been preferable. Gas was being sent instead, and while there was a safe area between the gas' range and the broken filters, there were still too many bodies. Five days.

Thursday

Shaking again, but there were few left to feel it. Without any morale left, those soldiers left alive did nothing but wait. Four days.

Sunday

The evac team arrived to silence. The bunker was empty save for the bodies of the slain. All else that was found were dead men's last words, a soldier's last will, a mechanic's life story. They had been given one week to last, to be able to go home.

It was one week too late.


	3. HPF Interrogation Log

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IPA Planet #23: Hecate  
> 23rd June, 2185  
> Police Interrogation Log #11369  
> Supervising Officer: Sergeant Henry McMahon  
> Witness #10579
> 
> Commence Log

Officer McMahon: So. Tell us what happened.

Witness: Right, so I was out drinking with some mates after work, yeah, an' I wasthe driver, yeah, so's I weren't getting too drunk, right, an' this guy walks in, yeah, an' he don't look right, right?

Officer McMahon: He didn't... _look_  right?

Witness: Nah, right, so he walks in, an' asks for water at the bar, yeah, an' he turns an' I see, yeah, that he looks like a fish, right, an' not the way my wife does, neither, bless her soul, he looks like an actual fish, yeah? Right freaks me out, I tell ya.

Officer McMahon: He looked like an actual fish. Right...

Witness: Yeah, you get me, right? So, yeah, he looks at me an' he looks like a fish, right, an' I ain't a superstitious man but I swear he looks right through my soul, if I got one

**[The witness starts getting agitated, but continues his story]**

Witness: So's I'm freaking out, right, an' I hear this voice, telling me, yeah, telling me to sock someone inna face, yeah, but I ain't really trusting any voice in me head, yeah, specially not one telling me to hit someone, right, so I scarper, in a right state, an' I ain't too proud to admit it, yeah, an' I turn, right, an' someone's stabbed the fish guy, an' there's a massive fight, an' the fish guy's still lookin' at me an' he's bleeding but he don't seem to notice, yeah, an' I run, an' I black out, an' then I woke  up here, right? With you asking me questions, right?

Officer McMahon: Ok. Well, thank you for your time, we'll let you know if we have any further questions. You're free to go.

**[The witness leaves. End recording.]**


	4. Sole Survivor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were things man was never meant to see...

As I stepped onto the bridge, I knew something was wrong. It wasn't the way the crew were cowering, nor the horrific sound issuing forth from the speakers.

No, it was the hulking monstrosity visible on the port side camera feed.

It's vast majesty would have been something to behold, were it not for the gibbering horror I felt at that moment. Somehow I gained enough sense to set the cannons to a timed salvo, before I surrendered to the madness.

By some twist of fate I was the only one to recover. I wish I hadn't.  The other crew members murdered each other days ago, and now...

now I am alone, adrift in the void, my only comfort the incessant beeping of the planet proximity alarm, telling me I will be safe soon.

But the memory will never fade, shall be forever etched into my mind, I know this. Though I can see Hecate on the scanners, and know that once there I can disappear, and run and hide, I also know that I will never outrun the recollection that still wracks my mind with horror too unapeakable for words.

There were things man was never meant to see...


	5. Returning Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo Schrade loved his family.

There were many problems with hunting extra-dimensional beings, but the worst, and sadly the most inherent, was one of knowledge.

Let too few know the truth, and there would be no-one to safeguard against them. Let too many know and soon there would be cults venerating the damn things.

Let one person know too much, and they would go insane.

All this the Ronin officer, Leo Schrade, mused as he went through his weekly maintrnance routine, cleaning his gun and sharpening his blades.

He was a man in his late thirties, pale of complexion and raven-haired with streaks of grey, and eyes as stormy-coloured as ghe steel of his swords.

Having been a soldier for most of his life he was used to hardship, as his spartan living quarters showed. His bed had fine cotton sheets, yes, a comfort he allowed himself only as a single luxury in an otherwise austere environment, and on the wall were mounted his ceremonial weapons.

His wardrobe contained little but his dress uniform, his armour, and his training gear. His desk bore only a great deal of neatly filed paperwork and a single framed photograph of a young girl, of similar features to him.

He dressed quickly after re-assembling his rifle, and headed to the bridge where the captain, one Evan Pritchett, with the Marshall Operations Naval Division, waited. An older man, of good humour and better honor, Captain Pritchett was in charge of the ship's current assignment, mostly by dint og having saved enough over his lengthy career to have bought the ship outright.

Schrade stepped into the hive of activity, and hurried over to the captain. It would hardly do to be anything but early, especially given...

"Ah, Liaison Officer Schrade. Good to see you. At ease."

With those words from the captain, Schrade visibly relaxed. The two men were very close friends, but both held to a policy of utter professionalism until it was explicitly not needed.

"Evan," he greeted his friend. "Where are we now?"

"We're just about to hit Tokyo IV airspace, get you back to your company's headquarters."

Leo smiled. "It will be good to see my family again. Are you going to visit this time? Misako misses her uncle."

At that, the older man sighed softly.

"I will, though it will have to wait until I've made my report to the Board, and bought her a present."

The Ronin officer made to reply, but the ship shook, disturbing them from their conversation.

"Entering atmo!" One of the pilots yelled. "Forty-five minutes until landing!" A cheerful, but dutifully subdued, cheer rose amongst the population of the bridge.

"Drinks on me tomorrow!" Leo shouted back. On his salary, he could easily afford it. Another, less subdued cheer sounded from the crew.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned back to face his friend.

"I'll have your things sent to the usual place," he said with a broad smile, "so when we touch down, you go see your family. God knows they deserve it. That's an order, by the way, while you're still under my command."

"Thank you, old friend." He replied, consumed by thoughts of seeing his family for the first time in monthd.

This had been a tough mission, testing his skill both as a warrior and a commander, and providing a sizable challenge. It had been enjoyable, in it's way, and he was proud to do it.

But this? As much pride he felt in his work, this would be much sweeter.


End file.
